


Second Chances

by ChameleonCircuit



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/M, Florist AU, Hangover, Mentions of alcohol, awful first meeting, in the loosest sense of the word, langhoun - Freeform, rafael barba is a big grumpalump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 17:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChameleonCircuit/pseuds/ChameleonCircuit
Summary: “I hear congratulations are in order, Mr. Langan.” The voice was familiar, eerily so, and he felt his face grow hot before he had even confirmed.“Rita,” he breathed out, and she smirked in response, flicking her hair over her shoulder.“I’m surprised you remember, considering you dodged me every time you saw me after we met.” Her eyes twinkled in a way that told him she remembered every detail, and he groaned, causing her to laugh. “Let me buy you a drink.”





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keraunoscopia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/gifts).



> unbeta'd and from a tumblr prompt  
> http://sofuckingchuffed.tumblr.com/post/178464203457/florist-au-awful-first-meeting-langhoun

Trevor groaned as the bell above the shop door tinkled, echoing around his head, rattling his skull. He felt a surge of nausea just at the simple sound and had to steel himself against his hangover before turning, planting his best fake smile on.

He needn’t have bothered. It was a boy who entered, maybe a few years younger than Trevor, probably a freshman, scowl on his face as the girl beside him nudged him.

“Well, flowers are a food start. What kind does he like?” The girl prodded, leaning into his space.

“Rita,” the boy shouted, and the sound if it made Trevor’s head pound, so much that he winced. “Can you leave me alone for all of five seconds?”

Whatever camaraderie was between them suddenly vanished as Rita’s smile disappeared with it, scowl taking its place. “Fine,” she huffed, and Trevor expected her to leave, but instead she stalked up to the counter, arms still folded across her chest.

“Sorry,” she stage-whispered, and Trevor had to force himself to smile. Her perfume was strong and he wasn’t sure his hangover could handle whatever show she was about to put on. “My asshole friend here has no idea how to treat people, and as a result has alienated himself from society. I fear he’ll never connect to a human being in his whole life. It’s really quite sad.”

The boy flipped them both off before disappearing to the back of the shop, muttering a string of curses as he scuffed his shoe along the polished cement floor, the squeak of rubber ringing out around the shop as he disappeared behind the rows of flowers. This time, Trevor couldn’t hide his wince, and he chose to sit down.

“I’ve seen you around,” Rita mused, straightening up as she flicked her hair back. Her hair seemed to catch the light as she did so, and Trevor’s mouth went dry. “You go to Harvard?”

“Yeah,” Trevor muttered, unexpected heat rising to his cheeks. “Law.”

“Me too,” she grinned, leaning in, and Trevor couldn’t help but notice the way her cleavage peeked over the top of her shirt. “What’s your name?”

“Trevor,” he supplied dumbly. “Er, Trevor Langan.”

“Langan?” Rita raised an eyebrow, letting out a low whistle. “I’m Rita.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but there was a loud crash at the back of the store, and with it came a fresh wave of nausea, and he barely managed to turn around before emptying the contents of his stomach into a pot. He could hear snickering from behind him, and he wanted to turn around, give her a piece of his mind, possibly regain some dignity, but his stomach had other ideas, leaving him dry heaving, body quivering, cursing his choice to drink so much the night before.

“Rafael!” Rita exclaimed, sounding exasperated.

“C’mon,” the boy—Rafael—said, disdain clear in his voice, and Trevor could just picture him wrinkling his nose. “There’s nothing Jerry would like here.”

“See you around, Langan,” Rita said quietly.

He listened to their footsteps retreat, waited for the head-splitting tinkle of the bell, before he dared to turn around, face hot with embarrassment. Rita was beautiful, ridiculously so, and he’d just gone and made a fool of himself in front of her.

He groaned, sitting himself back down on his stool, resting his head in his hands. It was going to be a long day.

—

Trevor sighed as he finally managed to separate himself from the rowdy group behind him. He’d just won his first high profile case, and while it was an accomplishment he was proud of, the celebratory antics weren’t so much his thing.

He’d just signaled the bartender when someone sidled up beside him, the musky scent of perfume hitting his nose.

“I hear congratulations are in order, Mr. Langan.” The voice was familiar, eerily so, and he felt his face grow hot before he had even confirmed.

“Rita,” he breathed out, and she smirked in response, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“I’m surprised you remember, considering you dodged me every time you saw me after we met.” Her eyes twinkled in a way that told him she remembered every detail, and he groaned, causing her to laugh. “Let me buy you a drink.”

Trevor glanced back at the group of partners and associates behind him, laughing, joking, drinking in excess, before letting his eyes settle back on the woman beside him, calm as she leaned against the bar, cool and collected and more put together than Trevor could ever hope of appearing.

“Let me. I owe you, after what you had to witness that day.”

She snorted in response, depositing her empty glass on the bar top. “Trust me, I would have been better off dealing with you than Rafael. In fact…” she trailed off, gesturing behind her to a booth in the corner.

Rafael sat there, barely looking a day older than he had that day in the shop, lopsided smile on his face, a sign of too much alcohol, for sure, as he leaned in, hand brushing the arm of the man sitting across from him. When he turned back to Rita, she rolled her eyes, and he laughed.

“It’s not funny,” she insisted, but she was grinning as she said it. “He always does this, always finds some boy to chat up when we’re supposed to be drinking together.”

“Still friends, then?”

Rita gave him an unimpressed look. “I doubt I’ll ever be rid of him. We’re a package deal, even when we’re not speaking to each other.” A soft look flitted across her face as she turned back to the bar. “Rafael Barba and Rita Calhoun against the world. Or something like that.”

Trevor smiled. He understood the sentiment, understood the desire. He and Paul Henshall were like that, too, with plans for their own firm and a bright future, seeking justice for people, defending those who need it. He still held onto that dream, even now.

“Are you buying me a drink?” Rita prompted. “Or do I have to buy it myself.”

“You actually want a drink with me?” Trevor asked, awkward laugh slipping past his lips as he ducked his head.

“Yes,” she said quietly, resting a hand on his arm. “And more, if you‘re up for it.”

His eyes widened in surprise, and a flicker of doubt clouded her expression. She turned her body away from him, his arm suddenly feeling cold without her touch, and flagged the bartender down.

“Start with a drink,” he said quietly, leaning in so she’d be able to hear him properly. “See where it goes first.”

She turned towards him, smirking once more, all confidence back in place as she raised her drink to her lips. “I doubt you’ll be able to resist me.”

Trevor watched as she sashayed away, mouth going dry, before he scrambled to catch up with her, unable to believe his luck.


End file.
